


Sorting It Out

by LVB



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-26
Updated: 2012-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-28 04:02:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/303521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LVB/pseuds/LVB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Sometimes I wonder if we sort too soon...”- Albus Dumbledore. Astoria knew that the Sorting Hat had given her a choice but maybe, just maybe it would have been better if she hadn’t been given a choice at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hogwarts, My Home

Hogwarts: My Home

“Hogwarts is so wonderful!” Daphne gushed to a quiet Astoria, as she fixed her school robes in the train compartment. They had just found an empty carriage in a fairly crowded train and Daphne kept eyeing the doors to see if any of her Slytherin housemates would join them for the long journey. Astoria remained quiet.

Receiving her Hogwarts letter had been very exciting and Daphne had spent the entire summer regaling her with stories of the school.

“Now, Astoria,” Daphne began as she checked her appearance in a small mirror. “You mustn’t be frightened when it’s your turn to be Sorted.”

“Why would I be frightened? Does it hurt?” Astoria asked timidly.

“Of course not, silly!” Daphne replied, snapping the mirror shut. “It’s just that most of the First Years have no idea where they’ll be placed. It’s quite sad to look at, really,”

“So what does that mean?” Astoria asked, still not quite understanding the point her sister was trying to make. Just before Daphne could open her mouth to reply, the carriage door opened and two girls dressed in Slytherin robes entered the small compartment.

“Pansy! Millicent!” Daphne squealed in delight and jumped out of her seat to greet her friends. Astoria looked on, full of curiosity. Daphne had always claimed to have best friends in Slytherin House but not once had she heard from them during the summer holidays. Perhaps that is what Hogwarts girls were like. She wouldn’t know, obviously.

Daphne air-kissed both Pansy and Millicent’s cheeks as Astoria turned to stare out the window. “How was your summer?” Pansy asked as she sat across from Astoria, ignoring the younger girl.

“Oh you know, we visited the summer house in France and had a quick visit to Spain, the usual,” Daphne boasted. Astoria fought to hide her smirk—they had done no such thing; rather, they had spent most of the summer tending to their elderly grandmother who had come to visit the estate.

“Hey, who are you?” Millicent asked Astoria bluntly.

“Oh, how rude of me!” Daphne said dramatically. “This is my younger sister, Astoria,”

“Oh how lovely!” Pansy gushed as Millicent sat back, eyeing her off. “You’ll do great in Slytherin, we need more of, you know, our kind,” she whispered conspiratorially.

“What do you mean, our kind?” Astoria asked politely.

All three girls looked positively scandalised by Astoria’s question.

“Purebloods!” Daphne hissed in an astounding mimicry of her House’s founder.

“It’s absolutely disgusting the amount of half-bloods and Mudbloods roaming the halls of Hogwarts these days,” Pansy added. “Slytherin House has even been accepting disgusting half-bloods into the house. That’s why it’s so important Purebloods, like yourself Astoria, get Sorted properly.”

“But what if I’m not Sorted into Slytherin?” Astoria asked, a little boldly.

The compartment was silent for a moment.

“Don’t be absurd, Astoria,” Daphne huffed. “You’re my sister! Of course you will be a Slytherin!”

Astoria thought back to the information Professor Dumbledore had sent with her Hogwarts letter. The Four Houses of Hogwarts, it had read. Ravenclaw: Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure. Most students in Ravenclaw House perform remarkably in their schoolwork and often take all or most Advanced classes up until their NEWTs in Seventh Year.

The girls began to chatter and Astoria simply looked out the window.

\--  
Hogwarts castle seemed foreboding as Astoria lined up with the other First Years. It would soon be her turn to wear the Sorting Hat. The young boy in front of her had just been placed into Hufflepuff, and the House table was erupting into cheers, welcoming their new member.

“Astoria Greengrass,” Professor McGonagall called. Astoria took a deep breath and made her way up to the front of the hall. Astoria briefly thought about what Daphne had said just before they parted ways to go to the castle.

“Don’t forget to relax when you’re being Sorted, Astoria! I’ll be waiting at the Slytherin table for you.”

“What if I’m not Sorted into Slytherin?” Astoria asked again, finding what little strength she had.

“Astoria, every Greengrass has been Sorted into Slytherin. Why should you be any different? We’re family, silly, and family always stick together.”

Astoria caught a glimpse at the other House tables as she walked up to the front. First she saw Hufflepuff, all wearing matching smiles, reserved for their new members. Then she spotted Gryffindor, which boasted the great Harry Potter himself. Astoria barely batted an eyelid; matters of rivalry and blood status did not concern her. Another important thing she noticed was the sheer amount of red-headed Weasleys occupying the table. Her eyes then flickered over to the Ravenclaw table. She spied two students who looked like sixth years, animatedly scribbling on parchment, doing a puzzle she supposed.

Finally her eyes rested on the Slytherin table as she positioned herself on the chair. Her eyes met with Daphne’s and she smiled encouragingly. Most people in the Great Hall seemed fairly disinterested in her own Sorting. She was a safe bet.

The hat enclosed over Astoria’s head. “Ahhhh, Miss Greengrass, is it? Yes, I have certainly placed a few of you over the years!” Astoria shifted, wondering whether anybody else could hear the internal dialogue going on seemingly inside her head. “You’re a Pureblood, coming from a very wealthy family and have quite the family history in Slytherin, if I’m not mistaken, hmm? I should know, I put them all there myself. But there’s something quite different about you, my lovely little Pureblood. You are quite smart and so very ambitious. I have half a mind to put you in Ravenclaw!”

Astoria gasped, startled. “You mean, I’m not going into Slytherin?”

“That’s the thing nobody ever tells you, my dear. At the end of the day, there is a choice. Ravenclaw would help you achieve your dreams but Slytherin is where your family is. You are smart but you are also cunning, Astoria Greengrass.”

Astoria met Daphne’s eyes, which had taken a panicked look to them. Astoria and Daphne were as different as night and day; Daphne chose to believe in the Pureblood nonsense the rest of her family believed in. Astoria could care less. Life was supposed to be about living, not about deciding which witch or wizard deserved to be there in the first place. She had been so excited to read about Ravenclaw. Advanced Potions, Advanced Runes, History of Magic...they were the classes she wanted to take, to enjoy, to feel the challenge.

“Your time is running out, my pretty. What is it to be? The House of your dreams, or the House of your family?”

Astoria paused and took a deep breath, closing her eyes to break the stare of her worried sister. They may be different but there was nobody else in this world Astoria loved more. Nobody. “I want to be in Slytherin,” she whispered.

“SLYTHERIN!” The Sorting Hat shouted, not missing a single second.

Slytherin House began to erupt into cheers, standing to welcome their newest member. Daphne enveloped Astoria into a hug as she joined her table. “See, I told you!” Daphne beamed.

Astoria took one last look at the Ravenclaws, who looked completely enthralled in their puzzles and chatting amongst themselves.

She had made her decision. She squeezed Daphne back. It would be alright, she supposed. In the end.


	2. Lessons in Discrimination

Part Two: Lessons in Discrimination

September, 1998

Astoria fought the urge to yawn. It wasn’t that Professor Vector was boring her, exactly. It was what she was trying to explain that was boring her. Taking normal NEWT level Arithmancy was positively tedious, she thought. She began to carefully study her nails. Thankfully, with the school completely restored after the Battle of Hogwarts in her fifth year, classes had gone back to normal. While not everything was completely normal, if the huge monument dedicated to those who died in battle was anything to go by, this was as close to normal as it was going to get. There were only a few Slytherins in the class; none of them friends with Astoria. In fact, there were fewer and fewer Slytherins left. The Sorting Hat had been so close to begging the First Years but as it seemed, nobody was willing to belong to the House of Voldemort, if it was any choice of theirs.

Astoria liked it just fine.

As Professor Vector began to fiddle with the projector, a sharp knock at the door interrupted Astoria out of her boredom. Slightly intrigued who would bother interrupting NEWT-level Arithmancy, she straightened her back and picked up her quill. Professor McGonagall opened the door.

“Excuse me, Professor, would you mind terribly if I spoke to Miss Greengrass?” Professor McGonagall asked politely.

Astoria’s ears perked up.

“Me?” she asked. She racked her brains, trying to think of a reason she would be called by the Headmistress. She hadn’t cursed anyone, unless that insipid Hufflepuff she had the misfortune of dating last Hogsmeade weekend counted. Which Astoria didn’t.

“Miss Greengrass, would you please pack your belongings and come with me?”

Trying to ignore the rest of the students’ gazes, Astoria hurriedly packed up her book, quill and parchment and with her head held high, she followed Professor McGonagall out of the classroom.

Their trip up to the Headmistress’s office was silent. Professor McGonagall fortunately took the short way and before she had a chance to formulate a plausible excuse, they were facing the gargoyles.

“Albus Dumbledore,” Professor McGonagall uttered and the stairway began to form. Astoria quietly followed her up the stairs and when they reached the unchanged office, she took her seat across the large, seemingly never ending desk.

“Now Miss Greengrass,” Professor McGonagall started, pulling out a file full of parchment with her name on it. “I’d like to discuss your NEWT classes with you.”  
Astoria looked confused; it was certainly not what she was expecting.

“My NEWT classes?”

Professor McGonagall pulled out what looked like her OWL results. “Miss Greengrass, you received eight OWLs, with six Outstandings and two Exceeds Expectations; quite an achievement considering the state of things during your fifth year.”

Astoria began to feel uncomfortable; as she was any time she was complimented on her academic achievements. Her fifth year had been nothing but a disaster. Being a Slytherin Pureblood had only just protected her from the onslaught that was the Carrows. Astoria’s method of escape had been to wholeheartedly throw herself into her other subjects, which had ultimately paid off. Astoria had the suspicion that had Defence Against the Dark Arts and Muggle Studies been run properly, she would have had another two OWLs to show for it.

Noticing Astoria had remained silent, Professor McGonagall continued. “I spoke to Professor Slughorn and he was under the impression that even though you did quite well in your OWLs, you didn’t feel as if you would be able to cope with more than five sixth year classes—Astronomy, Potions, Arithmancy, Transfiguration and Charms, is that correct?”

Astoria nodded in reply. “Yes, Professor.”

“Well pardon my forwardness Miss Greengrass, but I think that is a load of codswallop!”

Astoria wasn’t sure she heard the normally calm and controlled Professor correctly. “Professor?”

“Miss Greengrass—Astoria, you and I both know that you are more than capable than taking five basic sixth year subjects. Is it no longer your ambition to become a Healer? You will certainly need Herbology and Defence Against the Dark Arts to be accepted into the program.”

“I’m well aware of that Professor. I’ve discussed with my parents and they feel that...”

“Nonsense,” interjected Professor McGonagall. “I took the liberty of owling your parents who were quite surprised that you were only taking five classes...”

“You had no right to do that, Professor,” Astoria angrily replied, rising from her seat. She regretted the words nearly immediately.

“I’m sorry Professor,” Astoria whispered, slinking back to her chair. “I just haven’t discussed any of this with my parents yet. I just don’t feel as if I can do anything extra. It’s not as if I’ll be missed, Professor. Most of the Advanced classes only have Ravenclaws.”

“It may be true that the bulk of the classes are Ravenclaw but it is not unheard of for many other students to take on a heavier load, Hermione Granger, for example.”

Astoria felt herself slumping further into her chair. Most conversations about her intelligence often ended with her being compared to Hermione Granger. She’d never even met the girl, but she was quite sick of hearing her name.

“I think, Miss Greengrass, that this is a problem that can be easily rectified. I think that you can sign on to do Herbology, Defence Against the Dark Arts and Ancient Runes. I think that ought to cover all the NEWT Healer requirements.”

Professor McGonagall was right. She did still want to become a Healer. She would certainly be the first of the Greengrasses. It would be entirely possible if she were even the first Slytherin to do so. Maybe it would be alright—maybe being a Slytherin in a class full of students that loathed her wouldn’t be so bad. If she put her head down, ignored the jibes and whispers; “What is a Slytherin doing in this class? Mummy and Daddy probably paid McGonagall to put her in this class! Why didn’t she just drop out like all the rest of them?”, she could do it.

She had to.

“Thank you, Professor,” Astoria said sincerely, taking the parchment from Professor McGonagall’s outstretched hand. “I’ll get Professor Slughorn’s signatures on these right away. But if it’s all the same Professor,” Astoria leant over the desk and picked up a blank form. “I think I’d like to transfer to Advanced Arithmancy too.”

\--  
It took Astoria nearly two classes to chase the various Professors’ signatures on her enrolment parchment. Most of the Professors were quite glad to have Astoria sign on to the advanced classes, none more so than Professor Vector, who happily signed the form, while singing Astoria’s praises.

“You have always been such a good student, Astoria,” Professor Vector gushed. “It will be lovely to have you in the Advanced class! You’ll be the only Slytherin, of course, but there’s two Hufflepuffs, one Gryffindor and three Ravenclaws, a nice small class, much better, don’t you agree? I have a spare textbook but best owl your parents and get them to order a copy from Flourish and Blotts!”

Astoria fought the urge to roll her eyes at her overly-excited Professor but the absolute unease of being the only Slytherin yet again in one of her classes soon enveloped her.

Advanced Arithmancy was at the end of the day and, although she had already faced a much more boring normal Arithmancy lesson, she was actually looking forward to it. She was early and found a seat towards the middle of the classroom, setting out her borrowed textbook, parchment and quill. Soon, the other students began to file into the classroom.

The first student, Floria Fabens who was in Ravenclaw, stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of Astoria. “Are you lost, Astoria?” she sneered, taking a seat on the other side of the classroom.

“I didn’t think any Slytherins took the smarter classes, since well, ever,” Phillipa Bays replied, following her fellow Ravenclaw.

“Well I beat you in all your OWL classes last year, Bays, so I’d shut it if I were you,” Astoria snapped.

Soon after, the entire class had been seated and Professor Vector had started the lesson. Looking around, Astoria painfully noticed that once again, she was left alone while her classmates all sat in pairs on the other side of the classroom.

Astoria had never felt so alone.

However, staring at the challenging equations in her textbook, she found comfort in the thought that perhaps her schoolwork would once again give her the strength, friendship and comfort she so desperately craved in the absence of real friends in her forsaken House.


	3. Pythons, Entwined

** Part Three:  Pythons, Entwined **

_October, 2004_

Astoria swore as she grabbed her patient’s file and stormed down the corridor, bypassing the Potions ward. “Prats,” she added as she passed the Mediwitchs’ station. Sandy Barley, the head Mediwitch on the floor raised a perfect blonde eyebrow at her but continued to file.

Once again, Astoria’s request to be moved to the next level of training, focusing on Spell Damage had been denied.

 _“We just don’t think you’ve had enough time training in other forms of Healing, Trainee-Healer Greengrass. We think it may be beneficial for you to have another year or so practicing more relevant types of Healing, birthing for example. Maybe next year we can have another review...”_

They were discriminating gits, Astoria thought. She had been a Trainee Healer for four years now and she had most certainly been the best in the small group she had started with. But of course, once again, her tainted Slytherin talent had been overlooked in favour of a safer alternative in the form of Dorian Helm, former Ravenclaw. Most people thought that in a post-Hogwarts world, alliances and Houses meant absolutely nothing. They were dead wrong. Astoria had thought that she would have the ultimate opportunity to reinvent herself, not as a Slytherin and not as a Greengrass, but as a smart and confident Healer. What she didn’t realise was that people’s prejudices were deep. Often it was the Slytherins and the Purebloods that were accused of hanging on to archaic deep-seated notions of honour and supremacy but what Astoria had come to realise is that everyone was capable of such things.

Looking down at her file, she realised she had picked up the wrong one. This file was for an emergency-admitted Spell Damage patient. Astoria let a wry smile play on her lips. _Technically_ , only fully qualified Healers should be taking those cases. But Astoria knew without doubt that she was more capable than Dorian bloody Helm; that was for sure. Turning around, Astoria climbed the stairs to the Spell Damage ward.

\--

Astoria arrived at her patient’s bed and before she pulled back the curtain, she took a deep breath and readjusted her lime green robes. It wouldn’t do well not to be able to fool the patient, after all. She pulled back the curtain and took a moment to calm herself as she came face to face with her patient.

Draco Malfoy.

“Draco?” Astoria asked, surprised. “What the bloody hell are you doing here?”

Draco groaned in response. “Nice to see you too, Greengrass. Obviously I’m here to seek medical attention, if that wasn’t obvious enough. Now if you could do me the honour, would you mind running along to find a Healer?”

“I am the Healer, you prat,” Astoria snapped, opening Draco’s file.  “I meant why bother coming in to St. Mungo’s? Don’t you normally only take house calls?”

Astoria could have sworn he turned a light shade of red. Shades of embarrassment on Draco Malfoy? She wished she had a camera.

“My father has house calls. Seeing as I no longer live at Malfoy Manor, I am no longer privy to such benefits,” he replied, sourly.

Reading his file, Astoria moved to stand behind him and with a flick of her wand, closed the curtains. “Draco, it says that you’ve been cursed here, on your back.”

Draco nodded in reply.

“I’m going to have to ask you to take your shirt off so I can have a look.”

Draco began to undress and Astoria felt her own cheeks start to burn. Draco was no longer just a boy in her sister’s year. He certainly had...filled out. Astoria averted her eyes as she caught sight of the Dark Mark on his arm. He cleared his throat, signalling to her she could look at his back.

Astoria fought to keep silent as she saw what somebody had cursed on his back.

 _Die Death Eater Scum_ glowed on Draco’s back in his own blood.

“Who did this to you?” Astoria asked softly.

“Can you get rid of it or not?” Draco snapped.

Suddenly, the Healer in Astoria took charge. With a flick of her wand, the Potions Cabinet stored in the room opened up. Astoria took two of the potions onto the bench and began to mix them together.  “I’m going to give you a potion for the pain and give you a salve to rub onto your back,” Astoria began to say, dropping some boomslang into the pain relieving potion and handing it to Draco. He downed the potion in one gulp.

As Astoria mixed the salve, she thought of who could do such a thing to Draco. It wasn’t exactly news that the Malfoy family had lost a lot of prestige in the years following the Second War. Not so long ago, Astoria would have assumed an attack like this was decidedly Slytherin. With such brutal and very nearly true words, it could very well have been anybody. The thought was frightening. It was one thing if you knew who your enemies were but when everybody hated you, walking down Diagon Alley became a risk. For the briefest of moments, Astoria thought of Harry Potter and wondered how he had coped with the feeling for so long.

“Alright, this may sting a little but then you’ll feel a cooling sensation. The salve will absorb the blood and slowly begin to sink into your skin. With a curse like this, only time will tell if the scars will fade or if they will be permanent,” Astoria said as she covered her hands with the salve.

As she applied the cool potion to Draco’s back, she felt him shiver under her fingertips. It wasn’t a unique reaction but it sent shivers down Astoria’s own spine.

“It’s nice to see a Pureblood Healer for once in this place,” Draco commented as she finished massaging the salve into his soft skin. “Everywhere else has been taken over by the half-breeds and the Mudbloods,” he said, a note of disgust in his voice.

“Oh Draco,” Astoria said sadly as she washed her hands. She turned to face him. “I’m a Healer because I wanted everyone to know that I was smart enough, not because I enjoyed helping people,” she started, bluntly. “Although, I suppose a bit of that has happened along the way. I’ve seen people jinxed and cursed within an inch of their life and I’ve seen Purebloods, Half-Bloods and Muggle-borns give birth to some quite ugly babies. But there’s one thing that I can tell you.  All their blood runs red.”

Draco was silent as he studied her face. Astoria had to look away, lest her blushing face get the better of her. She hurriedly scribbled a prescription for the apothecary on her Healer’s parchment.

“Take this prescription to the Apothecary on Diagon Alley, the one across from the Weasley shop, they’ll take care of you. I’ve given you one more potion for the pain, should it get any worse and one month’s supply of the salve to be applied twice a day.”

 Draco gratefully accepted the parchment as he carefully shrugged on his shirt. “Thanks, Astoria,” Draco replied sincerely.

“I’ve also given you my address, just in case.”

Draco raised his eyebrow. “Just in case?”

“You know, in case something goes wrong and you’d rather not come to the hospital again. Or, whatever. So feel free to owl. Or Floo,” she replied, awkwardly and completely uncharacteristically. Astoria Greengrass faltered for no man. Only Draco Malfoy, apparently.

“I’ll see you around, Astoria. Thanks,” Draco replied.

“You’re welcome, Draco.”

Astoria sighed as he pulled back the curtain and left.

Becoming a Healer was turning out to be more educational that she had ever imagined.


	4. Choosing your home, choosing your house

Part Four: Choosing your home, choosing your House

Astoria sighed and glanced around the grand dining table. Lucius had assumed the spot at the head of the table, with Narcissa sitting to the right. Draco assumed the other spot at the end of the table. She shared a side, close to her husband and next to her son. The House elves were busy bringing the second course of dinner, their eyes cast downward the entire time. Scorpius was fascinated by the House Elves, having none at their own home.

“Thank you, Ixpy!” he said happily, as the small elf placed a bowl of soup in front of him. The elf, not used to such kind words, nearly tripped over herself.

“You is being kind, Master Scorpius, too kind to Ixpy!” she moaned, and rushed back to the kitchen.

Lucius had kindly invited them over for a feast to celebrate Scorpius leaving for Hogwarts the following morning. Draco had accepted the invitation on their behalf, much to Astoria’s dismay. She loved Draco more than anything but evenings spent with Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy often proved very trying, particularly for young Scorpius.

At their own home, which had been thoughtfully provided by Astoria’s father in her dowry, had been decorated by Astoria. There was plenty of light, no House Elves, with a grand library and Potions Lab. Draco had only once suggested they buy peacocks, and quickly learned never to ask again.

“Scorpius, dear, are you excited for tomorrow?” enquired Narcissa.

Astoria didn’t fail to notice the way her son subtly eyed Draco, waiting to see whether he was allowed to respond. Malfoy Manor had a way of silencing even her chatty, enthusiastic son. Astoria could fully comprehend just why Malfoys had been in Slytherin for centuries.

“Yes, Grandmother,” he replied politely, earning a small nod from Draco.

“I heard that your mother bought you a mangy cat to take with you to Hogwarts,” Lucius commented, eyeing Astoria.

“Yes, Grandfather. Pickles,” he supplied, unable to help but smile at the thought of his new friend. Astoria smiled too, thinking about the way his eyes lit up as he stroked his new pet’s soft fur and planted a thankful kiss on her cheek.

“Pickles Malfoy? How endearing,” Lucius sneered, directing his disdain at Astoria. “Your father ought to have bought you an owl. The vermin won’t last very long in the Slytherin dungeons. That oaf Hagrid might capture him and have him for a snack.”

“Father, really...” started Draco, swirling his wine in his goblet, earning a disapproving stare from Narcissa.

“It is clear that our dear Scorpius has more of his mother’s ear than his father’s. Draco’s off building the Malfoy family’s reputation and earning thousands of galleons and clearly has to leave his wife to do all of the rearing and discipline. Astoria, my dear, do you plan on resuming your _full time_ responsibilities as a Healer when Scorpius leaves tomorrow?”

Astoria felt Draco’s hand on her thigh as she dug her own fingers into his. Scorpius was looking at her sadly. She knew he hated seeing Lucius treat her with such disrespect. The fact that Astoria hadn’t given up her work all together once she gave birth to Scorpius had caused many arguments between herself, Lucius and Narcissa.

“Yes, Lucius, in fact, I’ve been offered the position of Chief Healer in the Emergency Action department. I start in three weeks.”

Narcissa scowled as Lucius leaned back, drinking wine of out his own goblet. “Astoria, dear, why do you insist on returning to work? Draco has sacrificed so much for this family. Is it too much to ask that he come home to a doting wife rather than a Healer who has delusions of saving every jinxed Muggle-born that comes in to the hospital? I rather thought you would have given up on the idea!”

“Enough, Mother,” commanded Draco. “Astoria and I are perfectly content. Scorpius will be sorely missed when he leaves in the morning and _both_ Astoria and I will cope by working.”

To Astoria’s relief, Draco’s tone ensured the rest of dinner passed without incident. Finally, the House elves had cleared away the last of the dinnerware and they all sat in the Malfoy’s sitting room.

“Really, Mother, we must be going...” Draco protested as Narcissa shoved the three of them onto a dragon-hide couch.

“Nonsense,” said Lucius, pouring himself a goblet of Firewhiskey and directing his attention to Scorpius. “We have a gift for you, to celebrate.”

Scorpius eyes lit up. “A gift? For me?”

“You really shouldn’t have, Lucius,” said Astoria, glaring at both in-laws. Marrying into the Malfoy family had been nearly overwhelming at first. Both Lucius and Narcissa had silently criticised her from the moment she had entered their home.  The Malfoys had lost a lot of prestige in the greater wizarding world and to compensate, became overbearing and protective in their own home. Her only saving grace had been that she was from a Pureblood family that hadn’t completely disgraced themselves either way during the war and she was a Slytherin.

Lucius pulled out what was obviously a broom-shaped package from the back of his couch. “Congratulations, Scorpius. You will make a fine Slytherin.”

Astoria’s heart broke as Scorpius slowly undid the fine wrappings. Time and again, Draco had taken Scorpius to practice flying but her son had no interest. He had developed a fear of flying after seeing someone who had fallen off a broom when visiting her at work. The poor wizard hadn’t lived and Scorpius had refused to fly ever since.

“Thank you, Grandfather, Grandmother,” he said, looking at the obviously expensive broom.

“It’s a thoughtful gift,” commented Draco, trying to hide his anger at his parents, who had been told in private about Scorpius’s fear of flying. Lucius was of the opinion Scorpius had needed to ‘man’ up and continue the Malfoy way of life. Ironic, she had thought, seeing as both Lucius and Draco had once been cowards.

“Scorpius, the finest Slytherin,” Scorpius read out. The broom had been decorated with an intricate black and green design with the Slytherin crest on the top of the broom.

Suddenly, Astoria had had enough. “Slytherin?” she said quietly, standing.

“Yes, my dear, naturally we thought...” started Narcissa.

“He hasn’t even left yet, let alone have been Sorted!” Astoria started shouting.

“Astoria, calm down,” hissed Draco.

“I will NOT calm down! You!” she said, jabbing Lucius with a perfectly manicured finger. “How DARE you presume to know what House my son will be Sorted into! How DARE you try and influence his choice! Has your experiences in Azkaban, your experience living in this world after the war opened your eyes at all, you single-minded snake!”

“Mum, please,” begged Scorpius, clutching his broom.

“He is a Malfoy _and_ a Greengrass, Astoria,” Lucius replied coolly. “What are the chances that he won’t be a Slytherin?”

“That’s not for you to decide!” Astoria seethed. “We have fought so hard to provide Scorpius with a world view that isn’t tainted or tarnished by old prejudices. What Draco and I think about muggle-borns or half-bloods has nothing to do with the way we have raised our son. The only time he hears about Pureblood and Slytherin supremacy is when he visits here, where you put a spotlight on his fears for all to see. He’s just a child, Lucius!”

Narcissa was starting to look ill. Draco’s eyes were wild but Astoria could swear she saw pride amongst the fury.

“Perhaps its best you leave,” urged Narcissa. Astoria needed only a second to summon her coat and snatch a handful of Floo powder. Without a second glance, she threw the powder in and in moments, was in her own sitting room, brushing off the excess powder. Scorpius appeared seconds later.

“Daddy won’t be long,” he whispered, still clutching the broom. Astoria snatched it off him and sat him down on their material couch.

“You listen to me, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy,” she said as her son listening intently. “Tomorrow, they will put a hat on your head to tell you where you belong. It doesn’t matter to me or to Daddy what House you’re in. Do you hear me? Don’t you dare chose to go into any other House other than the one you feel you truly belong. You don’t have to use this awful thing,” she said, gesturing to his broom. “I don’t care if it is a gift or not. We are proud of you and we love you, just as you are!”

Scorpius nodded and Astoria wrapped her arms around him, wishing that she would be able to walk into the Great Hall with him in his moment of truth.

\--

Draco’s voice boomed through their now-empty house. “Astoria, the mail has arrived!” She wiped her hands on her apron and closed the stopper on the current potion she was mixing. She rushed t. o the kitchen where assorted envelopes were scattered across the kitchen table.

“Open it,” Draco said graciously, absent-mindedly stroking his beard. Astoria needed no further encouragement. Her hands were shaking as she unfolded Scorpius’s letter and took in his familiar scrawl.

“Well? Out with it? Where’d it stick him?”

Astoria sighed with relief. “Gryffindor.”


End file.
